


Homebound

by Loquatorious



Series: Homebound [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Compliant, F/M, Marriage, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-04 11:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18603754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loquatorious/pseuds/Loquatorious
Summary: SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS ENDGAME"Six infinity stones. Six points in time and space where they need to return to. One quantum suit. One enchanted hammer. One Steve Rogers. One goal. One last mission."With the most important person in his life gone, and the world moving forward, Steve Rogers has little left to live for. Nothing lies ahead for him in this new world, except for one last mission. The fight of his life is over, but does that mean his life is over too? Or will he get a second chance with the woman he had come to love? The universe works in mysterious ways, and sometimes - just sometimes- it is kind.





	1. Chapter 1

My name is Steve Rogers, and I have a mission.

It’s been a fortnight since the mad titan Thanos was defeated, he and his armies turned to ash before our very eyes. We saved the universe from complete annihilation. We won.

We also lost, lost far too many. Some in the wreckage, some brave souls in the battle, and some before it had even started. For me, it was two people.

The first was a man named Tony Stark. He was a genius, truly. He had a mind like no one else on Earth. A unique mixture of arrogance, bravery and stubbornness - God, was he stubborn. So much so that he would move Heaven and Hell to accomplish his goals. That drive was the catalyst for all this. He was the one who gave us the key to time travel, he was the one who helped me steal the sceptre and the Tesseract from the past, he was the one who fought tooth and nail against Thanos and won. He was the bravest of us all. The reason why any of us are still here today.

Using all six infinity stones to snap Thanos and his hordes out of existence came at a price. When the dust cleared, I saw the aftermath. I thought Banner had looked bad after he had used it, with his right arm disfigured and burned black, cracks of skin running all the way up to his neck. Tony though… When I first laid eyes on him after the fighting calmed down, when I saw just how severely stones had affected him, I froze. His entire right side had been burned, his armour weathered and dulled from the intense feedback of the stones in his gauntlet. I forced my tired legs to move, ignoring the burning pain of their overexertion from the past few hours of battle. I soon realised suddenly why it was so unnaturally quiet. He wasn’t talking. He wasn’t breathing. It took me a second to connect the dots, whether it was because of confusion or denial, I couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. Tony Stark, the Earth’s greatest defender, was dead.

I had never imagined that his funeral would be a quiet, understated, personal ceremony. I always assumed that him being a Stark, he would have wanted a monument, or a party - something loud, outrageous, controversial. Shows how much I really knew about him. Instead, I had found myself surrounded by all people he had touched in his life, all the heroes he had inspired or supported over the years. All of us watched in silence as Pepper, the newly widowed mother of one, sent a single reef across the surface of the lake, baring the last piece of her late husband, his prototype arc reactor. It was nothing I had expected it to be, and at the same time, I knew it couldn’t have been anything else.

At least Tony got a funeral. Natasha hadn’t even gotten that. Her body still lay on Vormir. Clint told us that she had sacrificed herself as payment for the stone itself. 'A soul for a soul' as was the toll. We never knew that the soul stone demanded a price and those of us that did remained silent about it. And because of that Natasha Romanoff, another person so very close to my heart, was now lost to me. I will never see Natasha again.

Someday… someday I may even come to terms with that.

I haven't time to mourn yet - too much to do, so little time to do it. That might be a blessing in disguise. If I was to start, I couldn't say for sure if I'd ever stop. I couldn't trust myself not to just sit in a corner somewhere and stop living.

Even thinking about Natasha makes my head scream in ways that I never knew it could. Hearing the news of her death was like having a piece of my heart violently ripped out. Someone who had been with me every step of the way, someone I had taken for granted, was gone. My friend, my partner… maybe even something more if I had had the time. If I had the courage, more like. You would think, after Peggy, that I would have known not to have waited. I guess, after everything that had happened, it was never the right time. As if there was ever going to be a 'right time'. Our line of work was never going to hand us this sort of thing. This was the wrong business for that sort of miracle, Rogers.

What I wouldn’t give to have just a little bit more time with her. I long to tell her how I feel about her, about how much I am going to miss her and how I desperately need her, more than I ever dared to tell her, more than I ever realised I could.

She was my rock. More than any other of my teammates, she was the one who showed me how to function in this new world I had found myself thrust into. I relied on her, in a way so vital to my very being that no longer having her there felt like I was falling. I still feel like I’m falling. Falling through time, from moment to moment, day to day, dreading the landing.

What is there for me to do? Thanos is gone, the universe is restored, the world is at peace. I’m ready to move on from the fight, to put down the shield and start living that life Tony told me to get, but without her? I’m not sure I can. Bucky and Sam are my best friends, my brothers, but Nat… she was, as I’m beginning to realise, my everything. Every name I could come up with, she was it. Friend, sister, girlfriend, wife, ally, teammate. We never put a name to it, because we knew, deep down, what it was. It was those quiet moments when I’d find her at her wit's end, trying to hold it all together, and our eyes would lock, and she would slowly unwind. I was the only one of the team who could always make her smile. Except maybe Clint - god, I can only imagine how he feels about all of this.

As far he's concerned, he's done with it all. He's quit the game entirely, chosen to live with his family, his wife and kids, have picnics on the grass beside their remote farmhouse. I once thought I didn't want that life. I tried to convince myself that the man that wanted a family was gone. He was never gone, I now know that all too well. He just never thought he’d have the chance again. That part of me had begun to resurface whilst on the run from the Sokovia Accords, all those years ago, when Nat and I governed our little group of renegades across the world, fighting the good fight in the shadows. Our own secret avengers, with us two at the helm. It felt almost like family. With her by my side, it felt like home.

And now it’s all gone. I have no place to call home. No reason to carry on.

But I have a mission, and right now that fact is pulling me through.

Six infinity stones. Six points in time and space where they need to return to. One quantum suit, geared up and ready to go. One enchanted hammer. One Steve Rogers. One goal. One last mission.

I pick up the case carrying the most powerful relics in the universe in one hand and Mjolnir in the other. I hear Bruce calling out the launch, second by second. I steady myself on the platform, clenching my fists as the helmet folds itself over my head. I look around at my two best friends, who look on with slight anxiety. They think they’re hiding it so well, but I can always tell. Bucky, he’s somewhat easy to tell. I’ve seen his worried face grow up throughout my childhood. Sam’s poker face, as he probably likes to call it, is what he believes is a passive expression, but it’s contorted in an unconscious way. To his credit, few would be able to tell that he wasn’t perfectly cool, but I could. I’ve been getting better at reading faces recently, something else I owe to Nat. How I wish that I could see her face beside them both, decorated with that little smirk that would make her eyes shine, the mischief behind them that would drive me crazy. Never again.

The countdown ends. The world around me falls away, replaced with the luminescent insanity of the Quantum Realm. I straighten up, guiding my body to my destination.

First stop: New York, 2012.


	2. Chapter 2

I arrive in an alleyway, just off the side of the main road. I glance around. I'm alone. The helmet on my suit retracts, and I breathe in the dusty air. Stark tower looms above me, the letters of its front-facing label having been lost, leaving only the 'A', alone. The prototype of what was to come. Just seeing it brings forth nostalgia I didn’t know I had. Simpler times. Times before Thanos.

I switch out of the Quantum Realm suit, revealing my SHIELD garb underneath, and a cap to wear over my face. Mjolnir and the stones are left underneath a blanket for now. At this point, I have two infinity stones I need to juggle, but I have a small window, and it needs to be done quickly. By my calculations, I have twenty minutes. 

I hastily make my way across the street, dodging civilians as I go, trying to remain as covert as I possibly can. I recall everything I can of what Natasha taught me. Stay calm; walk, don’t run; never make anyone look twice. I hear it in her voice, and I feel a renewed sense of drive within myself.

The reception area of Stark Tower is currently open, facilitating the influx of SHIELD operatives and their cleanup crew. I spot a squad of agents, similarly clothed to me, approaching the open doors. Perfect opportunity to slip inside. Don’t waste it, Rogers. The team passes through, I tag along behind, mimicking their speed. I hunch ever so slightly, masking my height. They never notice a thing.

From there, I find an open door and squeeze through. Turns out it's a room filled with security monitors, all hooked up to cameras, one bored occupant inside. They merely nod at me. Clearly, agents have been walking in and out regularly. I should fit right in. I stand by the wall, adopting an easy stance, my eyes scanning each of the surveillance screens. I’ve got eyes on the stairwells, one on the reception, one on the penthouse (I wonder if Tony knew about that) and one in the elevator. I should be able to see all the key pieces moving at once.

I don’t have long to wait. By my timings, I arrived just as my fight with me had ended. Soon, my suspicions are confirmed. Thor and Tony have just entered the lobby, with a cuffed, muzzled Loki in tow. Soon, several things are going to happen at once, and I have to be prepared for each. Firstly, Lang is going to pull the plug on past Tony's arc reactor, who is going to collapse, dropping the case he is currently escorting, meaning that future Tony, in disguise, is going to take the case containing Tesseract. He will then be intercepted by Hulk, who forces him to drop the case, freeing the Tesseract which Loki will then steal and use to escape. A pandemonium, yes, but a useful one, because I'm not here for the tesseract or Tony, I'm here for Loki. Loki is one of the loose threads we left along the way, a problem that if not corrected will cause catastrophic reverberations across the timeline. Luckily, I just so happen to be prepared for his escape.

Before I left, I came equipped with all the things I’d need to fix each change to the timeline we made, such as the sceptre (sans the mind stone), the Tesseract casing, waiting to contain the space stone, extra Pym particles (just in case) and - importantly for this scenario - a small, tracking device, courtesy of one Scott Lang. Once attached, this microscopic machine could be traced within seconds, range virtually unlimited, thanks to Captain Danvers’ choice upgrades. All I need is a clear shot, and I was about to get one.

The escort has been brought to a standstill by Pierce and his team. I force myself not to scowl as I look upon his face once again, knowing what he had done behind SHIELD’s back, what he was hiding right under their noses. Even through the silent camera footage, I can tell the argument’s getting heated.

I excuse myself and head back into the lobby as discreetly as possible. I notice the disguised Tony from across the way, his head down, just like mine. His lips are moving, obviously urging Lang to get it done. I face my target. Loki's body is blocked by Thor’s, his head is slouched in sly contemplation. Not yet.

The confrontation is hitting fever pitch now, hands are reaching for the briefcase. Not yet.

Tony’s getting agitated. I hear his voice rising, even from here. Or is it the younger Tony? Doesn’t matter, Loki is still blocked by bodies. Not yet.

The case with the Tesseract is now in a tug of war between Pierce’s men and Tony. He’s doing well to hold on, but he’s losing his grip. Not long now.

I’m not prepared for how hard it is to watch Tony keel over, pain etched across his rapidly whitening face. I realise that I’m watching Tony die. Even if it’s not what finally kills him, I can’t help but feel the urge to help him. I almost forget the mission entirely, but the sight of a pair of hands silently grasping the case and lifting it away reminds me. I watch as the disguised Tony walks away, and my sights are set back to Loki. More and more people are crouching down to help past Tony, but there are still too many blocking Loki, too many bodies obstructing me from a perfect throw. Just a few seconds more…

The crash of a door banging open and a metal briefcase clattering to the ground draws the attention of the two guards left around Loki. The trickster god’s eyes are drawn away from the men on the ground, towards the commotion across the reception area. Now’s my chance.

I hurl the device - barely bigger than a button - at Loki, hoping that it lands true. I play off my lurch as an attempt to catch the cube, but I know that it’s hopeless. I have to let Loki escape if I have any hope of keeping the timeline intact. And that’s exactly what he does. His eyes gleaming, he reaches down and clutches the glowing cube. A dark vortex surrounds him, and he disappears.

I’m gone before any of them realise I was there.

I return to the alley I first arrived in, removing the blanket from my equipment, spying a shrunken duffel and enlarging it. From the bag, I produce a small pager (once Fury’s but now repurposed for the mission). I turn it on, watching the small screen intently. I wait with baited breath for the tracer to calibrate. I stare at it, willing for it to blink into life. This has to go right. That was my one chance.

The screen lights up, and relief instantly fills my body. A set of coordinates flash on the screen. I exhale, stooping wearily. That was the easy part. Now it’s time for the real fight. I know where Loki is gone, but I bet he's not the type to go down without a fight. I need to bring him in so that we can send him back to Asgard after all is said and done, and keep history intact. That's where the empty sceptre will come in. I can't brawl him hand-to-hand, but if I get the jump on him, influence him with the sceptre... it's worth a shot. 

It's either that or I knock him out with Mjolnir.

I slip on the Quantum Realm suit once again, pocketing the bag and retrieving my case and my hammer- No, not _my_ hammer, I correct myself, the one I’ve been allowed to use for this mission. It’s strange how paltry of a distinction that seems to be now. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Mjolnir is becoming… familiar to me. As if it’s responding to me more and more. Maybe that’s why it moved for me all those years ago, during Tony's drinks party. Maybe it recognised me. It's a warm feeling, knowing that this supposedly inanimate object has a mind of its own and that it's taking a liking to me. No wonder Thor misses it.

I input the coordinates into the temporal GPS and activate it. I feel the pull into the Quantum Realm, like being dragged through a tube, and suddenly I find myself on the dust of an alien planet. The darkness of the surrounding environment masks my arrival well.

I look around me, and my eyes widen at the vastness of space. We’re standing on a small rock, suspended in an alien sky. Encroaching around us are Chitauri ships, dozens of them, swimming through space like sharks. The exploding remnants of a greater ship hang far off in the distance, still spinning from its obliteration.

I blanched. This is what Tony sent the nuke into. _This_  nightmare is what Tony saw on the other side. I can only imagine what it must have been like, having this scene be your first glimpse into the great unknown. The fear of knowing something like this was out there in the universe, eager to destroy you, must have been overwhelming. All of his suits, Ultron, the Accords; it was all starting to make far too much sense. No wonder Tony was so _sure_ we’d lose.

But we didn’t lose. Somehow, against all of this, we won. Just the six of us.

We were so damn _lucky_ , even then.

I expect a fight, or at least a snarky response once Loki notices my presence. I didn’t expect shuddering breath and groans of pain. Loki’s pain. I dare to peek my head over the side of the rock I’m currently crouching behind. I see Loki in the dirt, on his hands and knees. He’s shaking violently, as another figure I don’t recognise stands over him, circling him akin to predator and prey. The Tesseract lays beside them, abandoned for the moment.

The figure is drawing his hands over Loki's body, compelling the Asgardian's muscles to lock into unnatural shapes. A sinking feeling settles in my stomach as I realise that this must be some form of torture. I notice that the figure has six fingers on each hand, and for some reason, that fact unsettles me to no end.

“You thought bringing the Tesseract would _pardon_ you?” the figure speaks in a growling, smug voice. It chuckles, sounding like gargled oil. “You assumed that _this_ would account for your failure?”

Loki’s head is compelled upwards. He stares into the sky, his eyes wide, his face pallid and sweaty.

“I brought you what you asked,” he gasped desperately and irritably. “I did as you asked!”

“You lost the sceptre!” the figure retorted. “We charged you with _expanding_ our collection, not _exchanging_ it!”

“I-I’ll get it back,” he offered. “I’ll retrieve the sceptre and more. Anything you desire.”

The figure scoffed.

“Asgardian fool. Your words paint yourself so highly, but your experience suggests otherwise. He values experience above all else. Words are nothing but bluster to Him.”

“Let me appeal to him. Let me try for the Sceptre-“

“Only to fail, _again_?” The figure grinned callously.

“No, no, I will succeed, I will. I have the Tesseract; it can take me anywhere I so please. It will be simple-"

“It should have been simple with the Sceptre, and yet your incompetence impeded your success. That and those pitiful ‘Avengers’. Now that _they_ been assembled, how do you plan to combat them? You will have no army from us, you will have no support from us.”

Things are going south quickly. Time to act. I pull out the supply bag and reach in for the empty sceptre, placing it on the ground for now.

“I never took your master for a coward,” Loki snarked, the pain in his voice evident.

I open the briefcase as silently as possible.

“Coward?! You dare question the integrity of my great master?!”

I ignore Loki’s renewed groans as I reach in with my gloved hand and pull out the mind stone.

“You dare insult the great liberator of the universe?!”

I place the stone into the housing chamber and watch as it closes around itself, the yellow glow of the stone masked by the blue texture of the sceptre’s core. A rippling pulse of blue light runs across the metallic surface of the spear.

“You dare challenge the authority of the mighty Lord Thanos?”

I freeze. My blood runs cold. I suddenly feel utterly exposed, violated even. All this time, even from the very beginning, Thanos has been there, just out of sight. What seemed like a simpler time suddenly feels all the more frightening. I dread to think what would have happened if we had lost that day.

Suddenly, a fiery rage flowed through my veins. Flashes of everything that monster had done rushed through my mind, everything he tried to take from us, everything I lost because of his god complex. My friends, my home, Tony, Natasha…

Mjolnir finds my hand, my eye finds the figure. Their dialogue has been drowned out by the blood pumping in my head.

I loose the hammer from my grasp. It hits true with a mighty clang. The figure falls unconscious. The invisible bonds that held Loki unlock and he drops. I call Mjolnir back to my hand. The figure shouldn’t be dead, merely unconscious, but I don’t care.  

“Thor?” I hear Loki ask groggily. I look down at him, the sceptre in my other hand.

“Not exactly,” I reply. He looks up and stares into my eyes. My helmet obscures my face, but there’s slight recognition in his eyes. Whether he knows it’s me, I’m unsure.

I press the tip of the sceptre into his chest, his eyes cloud over and he stands up to face me. I retrieve my case from behind the rock and compel him to take us back to Stark tower with the Tesseract.

We arrive not ten minutes after we left, beside the still, unconscious body of my past self, sprawled along the walkway in dreamless sleep. I compel Loki to lay beside me (an act I shudder to think of in any other context) and force him to slumber. I lay the Tesseract beside him, feeling scummy as I falsely incriminate him. After finding out what had happened to Loki during his time as Thanos’ servant, it feels harder to exact any kind of misfortune upon him. How much of his act was his design? How much was the will of the mad titan? The will that has ruined so many lives, including mine in some ways. It’s not my choice, I have to keep the timeline intact. I hope the next few years are kinder to you, Loki.

I gather my equipment, compel my dormant form to awake in a few minutes, lay the sceptre beside Loki and leave through the Quantum Realm. With any luck, the others will find me standing over Loki’s body and assume that I took care of him as he tried to escape with the sceptre. The Tesseract will be back in Thor’s hands, and the sceptre in SHIELD’s, and - unfortunately - HYDRA’s. It frustrates me to no end that I’m not allowed to stop HYDRA’s rebirth in the 21st century, but it’s my own history I’d be meddling with. I already have enough paradoxes to fix.

The mind stone has been returned.

One down. Five more to go.


	3. Chapter 3

I touch down on the planet Morag, mid-storm.

It’s a dim, violent, grey place. Waves of what looks like water break onto the rocks of the surrounding formations, creating a cacophony of sound and motion. As far as planets go, it’s not my favourite. Not that I've been to that many. Thanos’ ship is nowhere in sight, however. Good. One less problem for me to deal with right now.

The temple that concealed the power stone for so many years is just a short hike from my current position, barely cresting the next range. Bracing myself against the wind, I begin my journey. It takes me maybe ten minutes, at a stride. Along the way, I see shapes in the rocks. They look almost like people. I must be going mad. They never said that multiple quantum jumps in a row were any good for you.

The entranceway is ahead of me, within is only darkness. It gets very reminiscent of Indiana Jones all of a sudden, what with the ancient ruins and the artefact. I smile. I remember Nat being so excited to show those films to me, back when we had time. She thought my brain would explode from the visual effects. Admittedly I was impressed, maybe even a little amazed, but mostly uncomfortable. Seeing images of Nazis exploding on the screen, their faces melting away in front of my eyes in a flash of heavenly light… it felt too reminiscent of the war for my liking. It reminded me of the Red Skull fading away and dying after holding the Tesseract for too long. I pause. Did he die? Or did he disappear? Was there a chance he was still alive, somewhere in the universe? That certainly isn't a comforting thought.

No, a far more comforting thought is Natasha, who noticed my unease, who always noticed when I needed help. At that point, she turned off the film and let us sit and talk together. We just talked for the longest time, about little things. I can’t quite recall. I do remember her eyes though. They looked warmer than they ever looked before. I remember feeling content, those eyes looking into mine, like I was anything more than some kid from Brooklyn who happened to beef up. We moved on to my drawings from there - I can't recall why; I think I mentioned them at some point. She begged me to show them to her, so I did. The drawing of the performing monkey is the one she stuck to the most. I think she knew what it meant, even before I explained it to her a moment later. She knew what it was like, I suppose, to perform. Never being able to show your true face. Never being seen as yourself, and have that be enough. Except to each other.

I force the memory of her face out of my head before it can steal my will from me. If I keep Nat in my mind’s eye for any longer my legs will buckle from underneath me. I can’t mourn yet, not yet. I have so many of these feelings, these memories, bottled up inside me. If I open the floodgates now, they may never close. I have a job to do, and afterwards, _then_ I can fall apart. Without her to pull me back together again. What will that make me? What will I have left to do then?

Die, I suppose. Just wait to die. Maybe then I’ll see her again.

“Not now,” I growled shakily to myself. I lean on the nearest rock, squeezing my eyes shut to try and barricade the tears that had crept up on me. I shake my head and push off, forcing my feet to carry me into the temple. “Just do the job.”

I trudge into the abandoned citadel, mud and debris clinging to the boots of the suit. I decide not to remove my helmet - even though the air seems breathable, it wouldn’t do for me to be recognised now. I scan the surroundings. Not a soul present, it appears. Well, except for one.

I prop the unconscious body of Peter Quill against a rock, wiping his music player of dirt and placing it carefully in the safety of his pocket. He’s out like a light - sleeping, I think. Makes my job much easier.

Beyond the way lies another set of doors, these ones opened already, probably by Rhodey and Nebula. They made a good team, in the end. We all did. I leap across the gap, not daring to look down, skidding to a halt inside the altar room. I chuckle inwardly as I glance, almost expecting traps of some kind. There are none, just an empty room, and a dormant containment device. Speaking of which, I pull out the disassembled orb from the bag, placing the power stone inside and sealing it up. For a stone that has the capacity to wipe out planets, this thing has an incredibly flimsy carrying case. One button press and it opens, just like that, I scoff to myself.

Suddenly, the orb begins to spin violently. The sounds of gears whizzing and clicking into place sound from just beneath the surface. It falls still as quickly as it had begun, and it somehow feels heavier, sturdier, as if it knows what it’s carrying. I try pressing the button on top. It simply gives way, activating nothing. Okay, maybe it’s smarter than I thought. Space technology works in strange ways.

I place the orb upon the pedestal, and beams of light encircle the orb, like the bars of a cage. They steam from the sheer heat, evaporating the remaining moisture in the surrounding air.

Back where it belongs, for now at least. Of course, in less than five minutes, Quill is going to wake up and just take it again. Always on the move, this thing. Still, better Quill than any of Thanos’ lackeys.

Another stone down. Now to a place I have been looking forward to.

*

I had read plenty of the Norse myths when I was young. Even though I was a Catholic boy, Ma always encouraged me to read; it was a good skill for a learned man, she always said. Every good man has the ability to read, it separates the leaders from the common folk. I think she saw it in me, the potential for something greater, even when I was a tiny, skinny twig of a boy. How she saw it I had no idea, then again, she always had an eye for these sorts of things. I wish I could go back to before she died, tell her what her son would accomplish throughout the next 100 years. About how her son goes from being beaten up by bullies in a Brooklyn alleyway to fighting fisticuffs with one the strongest tyrants in the universe, leading the world’s heroes into battle as their captain. How I'd found a surrogate family, people to live by and protect. Someone I could have shared my life with. I hope she would be proud of it all. She’d know what I could do, now that the fight is over. Both of them would.

In any case, it's with sweet anticipation that I arrive on Asgard. I take a moment to drink it all in. Towering buildings made of solid gold, glistening in the midday sun. Arches rising up into the heavens, engulfing me. A bridge made of rainbows stretched out over a vast body of sparkling water. This was Thor’s home? Lucky bastard.

Well, actually, not very lucky at all, I scold myself. This place was destroyed - will be destroyed - leaving him without a home, a family or friends. Of all of us who were broken that day, when Thanos won, Thor was hit hardest. No wonder he missed. He was emotionally compromised. _I'm_ feeling emotional compromised, and this isn’t even _my_ home.

“THOR! I GOT IT! WE GOTTA GO!”

Rocket’s cries break me from my stupor. I shuffle behind a pillar just in time to hear the pattering of Rocket’s hurried feet, followed immediately by a thundering of boots chasing after him. There’s no time to waste. It won't be long before Rocket and Thor make their exit, and that means the guards will most likely return to Dr Foster's chambers. I have minutes at most, and I have to make every one count. I just hope that none of the guards stayed behind to watch over Jane, that would be hard to explain. Then again, the fact that I was carrying Mjolnir, Thor's signature weapon, in my hand would be suspect enough. No time for disguises. I have to run.

I make my way as fast as I dare, weaving between pillars when necessary to avoid the occasional search party or civilian. The halls of the Asgardian palace are towering and wide, but they are easy enough to navigate. I'm tempted to use Mjolnir to fly me there, but then again, I am _trying_ to be discreet. Well, as discreet as I can whilst wearing a red and white suit.

At the end of the hall, just ahead of me, is the door to Foster's room, open ajar. I glance around. No one about as of yet. That will probably change soon. It's now or never. I slip by, manoeuvring my way to the entrance of the bedroom. The device I will be using to reimplant the Aether in my hands, I squeeze through the open door.

I settle my case on a nearby table, opening it to remove the Reality stone and encouraging it to flow into the glass tube. It sits somewhat patiently, warping around its containing with unnatural fluidity. I hold the device to a sleeping Jane’s neck and, as gently as I can, I inject the Aether back into her body. I can only hope the procedure is painless for her. Poor woman, she has a lot waiting for her when she wakes up.

Job done; another one off of the list. By my count, I’m halfway done. I look down at the open case in front of me. Only the space, time and soul stones remain. Time was easy enough: knock on the door of the Sanctum Sanctorum and hand it back to the Ancient One personally. The soul stone… I don’t wanna even think about taking the soul stone back to Vormir, back to where she died. I’ll save that for last. If I’m gonna break, I might as well break last.

The space stone, the Tesseract, was to go back to New Jersey, 1970.

This one might prove troublesome. I can’t simply teleport into the middle of the base, right next to the Tesseract’s containment cell, into a possibly-crowded room of scientists, but trying to sneak into the compound from the outside, even from the surface, would be difficult, especially now that they’re looking for me. I couldn’t simply use the same disguise as last time, as well as that served me, they would see right through that. I needed a new one, one that covered up the Quantum Realm suit enough for me to make an instant getaway. If I still had my beard, this would be much easier.

I missed that beard, it had taken a while for me to be convinced by it, but as a disguise, it fit well. Nat said it had brought out my eyes, then again she did have a thing for the beard. I think she wanted me to keep it more than I did. I might have even kept it for her, had our circumstances been different, if we had more time… But I don’t have the beard now, nor her to compliment it. I would have to improvise once I arrived.

One last thing, though, whilst I’m here in Asgard. I glance to my back, where I see Mjolnir sitting patiently on the sofa I discarded it on when entering the room. I stroll towards it, picking it up gently, stroking it fondly. I feel a warmth run through my body.

“This is it, buddy,” I say to the inanimate object. “This is where we say goodbye. You know, I never thought I could emotional over a hammer, but I see where Thor’s coming from now. You’re a pretty nifty little thing. I’m almost tempted to take you with me.”

I twirled her in my hands one last time, the unearthly metal emitting a satisfying sound. Or a _satisfied_ sound? I don’t know anymore. It’s been a long day.

“Well, in any case, thank you,” I say with all the sincerity I can muster. “Thank you for being with me in my time of need. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead. You treat Thor well, now. We’ll meet again one day. You probably won’t recognise back then, it was a long time ago, but it’s me. A little rough around the edges, but-"

“Who are you?”

I stop. Every thought in my brain screeches to a halt. The door. I forgot to check the door.

I look up into the eyes of Frigga, who is staring directly into mine. Her gaze locks me in place. She scans me, her sight falling upon Mjolnir, casually resting in my arms. Her eyes widen, she gasps, almost inaudibly.

“And how in the Nine Realms are you holding _that?_ ”


	4. Chapter 4

The helmet retracts from my head, freeing up my face to allow me to talk. A glint of recognition flashes across Frigga's eyes.

“Ma’am, this going to be hard to explain, and it’s going to sound ludicrous,” I say defensively, holding my hands up my sides in surrender, “but the thing is-"

“You’ve travelled from the future,” she finishes expectantly, taking me by surprise, “to save your timeline from certain doom.”

I blink. She knows?! How could she know? No one was supposed to know. Have I been compromised? If I have, this was bad news. If anyone has gotten word of my travels, there could be imitators, following in my footsteps to take back the stones. Panic begins to grip my system. What if someone has already taken the stones back? What if-

“Thor told me,” Frigga answers my unspoken questions. She must have noticed my confusion. Nat always said my poker face was garbage. “He told me everything.”

“Well, I’m actually here after the fact,” I quickly add. “Wait, Thor told you? When?”

“I’ve just spoken to him, moments ago.” He diverged from the mission. Of course, he did. “He’s certainly changed.”

Changed is an understatement. The long hair and beard, bloated gut and timid posture was a far cry from the Thor that had arrived on Earth all those years ago at the formation of the Avengers.

“I can’t say for the better,” I reply honestly.

“He has suffered pain and loss, I fear,” Frigga sighs. “As have you, I see.”

I ask how she knew.

“Your eyes, Steven Rogers,” she says. “They’re a picture of a weary soul.”

“You know who I am?”

“I make a habit to know of my son’s allies. He speaks often of you. The mightiest mortal of them all, he calls you.” She glances back to hammer in my hand. “He reckoned that you might be worthy. It seems he was right.”

She examines me a little closer.

“Or perhaps he saw the potential in you. You are much older now than your counterpart on Midgard. How much time has passed since then? “

“Ten years,” I answer, “Roundabout.”

“Such a long time for a mortal,” Frigga smiles, “And yet for someone of my blood, it is merely the blink of an eye. You Midgardians are here and gone so quickly. The time you’ve spent, the time you have left, it is so very precious.”

The time I have left. The long life I had left to live. Alone.

“I dread mine.”

Frigga’s brow furrows.

“Why?”

I remain silent. I can’t speak. There’s too much to say.

Frigga straightens herself and gestures to a nearby sofa. I lower myself onto the seat, she graceful guides herself to space next to me. Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I welcome it.

“We won,” I begin. “We saved the universe. We got everyone back. You think that’d be enough. In the end, we only lost two. I should celebrate that fact. In the larger scheme, it’s so few people to lose... It’s just not the same. The team I once knew, the allies I had, they’ve gone their separate ways. Some retired, some left, but they’ve got places to be, a life to live. They have a purpose. Ever since I got out of the ice, I struggled to find that. During the war, I had a purpose. Stop the Nazis, save America, win. Then I wake up and suddenly the path ahead isn’t as clear anymore. I tried to do my best. I tried following my country, but I soon realised that my own values and the values of world governments didn’t exactly fall parallel. The Avengers gave me a cause, but there was one of them who gave me more than that.

“Her name was Natasha. She and I had been partners for a while, but after the collapse of SHIELD, it was something different. The more I spent time with her and the more I fought beside her, the more I started to see her for who she really was. She always seemed so confident in this complicated world I struggled to stay afloat in. She made it look so easy. Turns out she was just as lost as I was. She was trying to do the right thing, just like me. I think we both realised that we had more in common than a team. We were like echoes of each other. She was made for the Russians, I was made for the US. Made to be the perfect counter to the other. In theory at least, because in practice she and I had something I never had with anyone else. I’ve had crushes before, even love. I’ve had relationships, I’ve had soldiers fight side-by-side with me... I’ve never known anyone who was my equal before, though.

“She was everything I ever needed. She never left me, not when it counted. We ran together for a while, hiding from the powers out to find us, never knowing where we would live next. Nothing was stable during that time, but we were. It felt like I finally knew what I could do with the rest of my life. I knew, that if there were ever one person who I could surrender myself to, who could convince me to stay behind, to leave it all, it would be her. I should have told her all this. I presumed that she knew, though. The looks she would give me when she thought no one was looking. The private conversations we’d have, just the two of us, where we could be ourselves for once…

“With her, I felt… safe.”

I trail off momentarily. My vision blurs as my eyes start to water. Frigga begins to rub circles into my back, encouraging me to go on.

“You know I thought… if there ever came a time where I had to readjust again, when it was all over and I had to live in a brand new world, I could do it. I’d done it before, after the plane crash, after the Accords, after Thanos… but all those times, I had her with me. After I lost everything the first time, the only way I could move on - properly, I mean - was with her. I realised that, as long as I had her, my world could fall apart and it’d be alright. It turns out she was my world. Even when I had nothing I had her. And now she’s gone, and I have to carry on without her, and I… don’t want to—"

The tears are unstoppable now. My voice gives out, and I begin to quietly sob into my hands. Frigga produces a handkerchief for me to dry my eyes with. I take it gladly.

“I’m sorry,” I croak.

“No,” Frigga whispers. “Don’t apologise. You need this.”

I nod faintly, grasping desperately at the handkerchief.

“I wish I had told her,” I sob. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Now, she’ll never know.”

Frigga holds me gently.

“She knew,” the goddess whispers reassuringly. “I’m sure of it. If you were half as close as you say you were, I guarantee she knew every word of what you had to say to me, now. And I’m sure she loved you just much.”

“She used to say that love was for children,” I reply.

“In the eyes of a goddess,” Frigga says sagely, “You are all children.”

There's a moment of silence where she allows me to absorb her words. We stew for a while more, allowing me to collect myself

She moves so that she is kneeling in front of me.

“How did she die?” she asks gently.

The question is blunt, it stings deep, but she delivers it in such a way that allowed me time to steady myself and answer. For that I am grateful.

“Sacrificed herself, to gain the soul stone,” I answer. “A soul for soul, that’s how it was described. She died on Vormir. Clint came back, she didn’t.”

Frigga pauses. She appears as if deep in thought, contemplating something intensely. She looks back up into my face, her eyes locked with mine, commanding my full attention.

“Steven, after everything you’ve been through, all you have done, all the people you have saved, I hope to see you in Valhalla one day. And I hope to see Natasha with you, as the two of you have always been. It is the nature of the chaos we live in that not everyone has a happy ending, but the stones are something different. They do have a capacity for kindness, for justice, the soul stone especially. If there were any person to summon that from them, it would be you, Steven.”

In a moment of unexpected tenderness, Frigga reaches up and places a small kiss on my forehead. It feels motherly in all the right ways.

“What do you plan to do with the rest of the stones?” she asks.

“Return them,” I reply, “back to where we found them so that the time can run its course.”

“And the soul stone?”

“Back to Vormir. That’s my last stop,” I confess. She gives me a sad smile.

“Send Natasha my regards.”

“I will." I sigh. “I’d best get going.”

“Where is your next calling?” she asks, as I stand up and walk back to my equipment.

“Earth, New Jersey, 1970. I’m returning the Tesseract,” I explain. I open the briefcase, revealing the three remaining stones, and my bag, where the empty pieces of the Tesseract are drawn from.

“The Tesseract is a dangerous relic to handle, especially with mortal hands,” Frigga cautions me. She reaches forward to take the pieces of the cube. “Allow me to bare it, if only for a moment.”

I hesitate. This woman - this goddess - has already given so much to me. I can't bare to see her come to harm.

“You sure you can handle it?” I ask.

“The Tesseract is powerful, especially in Midgard, but I am an Asgardian, and a powerful one, if I do say so myself. I can hold the Tesseract as it were any other object. I can even contain it, disguise it for you, if you wish?”

I nod in assurance.

“Very well.”

I summon the space stone for the briefcase. It ascends, floating towards the pieces of the Tesseract, held in Frigga’s hands. It lands in-between the two halves, and she closes them tightly. The edge of the two halves disappear. The clear, glass-like material turns luminescent, and the Tesseract is whole again. Frigga then waves her hands, a flow of green light weaves a cage around the relic, and the surface of the cube is engulfed in a leather hide, safe to touch.

“That should keep it contained,” she says with a hint of satisfaction.

“That magic,” I note, “It looks like Loki’s”

“Well, where do you think he learnt it all?” she asks cheekily. “Thor may be Odin’s son, but Loki is mine. I was raised by witches with the Aesir tribe before I met my husband. I passed those teachings down to my son.”

“Such as disguises?” I ask hopefully.

“Disguises so great, they could even fool Heimdall’s eye,” she answers.

“I might need one of those disguises,” I add, trying not to sound desperate. “The Tesseract will need to go back to a secure location, and since my last visit, they’re on the lookout for me. I need a disguise to help me get in.”

“That is a predicament,” she ponders, “but nothing an elementary illusion can’t fix.” She reaches down, pulling out a single bead from a pocket I didn’t even notice she had and presents it to me. It is wooden, with a line of bright green running along its equator. “When the time comes, crush this bead. The magic contained within will make your body and the objects you carry invisible to the human eye. It will only last for so long - maybe twelve minutes if one were feeling generous - so do not falter.”

“I won’t,” I promise. “I can’t even begin to thank you.”

She shakes her head.

“No, no, it’s least I can do, Captain.” She pats my cheek, renewing my self-esteem. “Now go.”

I pick up the briefcase, sending a final parting look to Mjolnir. 'See you, bud. Thanks.’

The helmet encases my head, and I activate the suit. I’m pulled through the quantum tunnel once again. I thank Frigga with all of my being, as I land in 1970.


	5. Chapter 5

The bead works like a charm - no pun intended.

Immediately after crushing the bead between my two fingers, I see the objects hanging by my sides fade away into complete transparency. I am invisible. It’s a weird sensation. You look at someone, you expect them to look back, or even acknowledge you, and they don’t. It’s also much harder to avoid bumping into people, mostly because they don’t move out of the way.

It takes the skill and grace of ballerina to dodge the crowds of people in my path, straight into the next free elevator, but I manage it. Shuffled as far into the corner as I can possibly get, I wait for my opportunity. The occupants of the elevator trickle out until only one person remains. They stop at the exact floor I need. Before the doors slam shut, I’m out and making way towards the labs.

A group of guards pass by me, completely unaware of my existence. They rattle off a description of a suspect my height, my hair colour, skin tone, uniform. They're looking for _me_ , and yet here I am, listening in on them like a ghost. I wonder if this is what the afterlife feels like. I wonder if Natasha could see me and hear me all this time. I hope not. I wouldn’t want her to see after what will come next. After this mission is done.

The entrance to the lab is just ahead of me. There’s a commotion coming from inside, an argument, between a woman and a man. Their voices are barely raised beyond a normal speaking level, but I can hear them, ever so slightly. As I move closer to the door, I can start to make pieces of the argument out.

“…let this happen …”

“…my fault… compromised… perimeter…”

“…gone already …”

I turn the door handle, as gently as I can, and open the door. I squeeze through, bringing the case through with me, and close the door, barely making a sound as it shuts. Now the argument is fully legible.

The moment the woman continues speaking, I know exactly who it is.

“You tell me to bite my tongue _one more time_ and I’ll have you demoted to sanitation.”

“You don’t have the authority yet, Carter.”

“No, but I am quite chummy with people who do.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, _wouldn't_ I? After all, one of the most powerful items on the planet has simply been whisked away! Under _your_ supervision, no less!”

Peggy. Of _all_ the people to run into now, of _all_ the times. There she is, older than he had left her, but still as beautiful as ever. She's matured like a fine wine. The fiery confidence of her youth is still evident in her chewing of the man in front of her. Even in times when women weren't taken as seriously as their male counterparts, Peggy stood out as a girl who refused to take no for an answer.

“You know, Carter,” the man stands taller, trying to regain his lost dignity, “You certainly like pushing boundaries around here. You keep talking like that, those boundaries might just push back one day.”

Talk about a fatal error in judgement. The older woman rounds on him, her eyes burning like the pits of hell.

“I like doing my _damn_ job, and doing it well,” she challenges unapologetically. “If you feel like keeping your’s, I suggest you find that cube, and fast. And if you ever talk like that to me again… well, let’s just say they won’t find you until it’s too late.”

Even with his height and weight advantage, they are no match in terms of intimidation. He flees with his tail between his legs. I can't help but smile. That’s the Peggy I used to know. Brave, beautiful, charismatic. No wonder I fell for her, all those years ago.

Now the two of us are alone, not that she knows it. She’s sitting right next to the containment unit where Tony had retrieved the cube. The cage itself had been cut open by what looks like a high-intensity laser beam (Christ, Tony, subtle much?). Still, it makes it easier to replace the cube, simply reach in and place it back in the centre.

My eyes fall to Peggy as I begin to inch my way closer to the container. She’s silently fuming to herself. She looks tired. If dealing with men like that was a regular occurrence for her, I’m not surprised. She had to fight for her position for so long, constantly facing adversity along the way, pushing through all the arbitrary barriers that had been placed in her path. It would be worth it, though. One day, she will be known as Director Carter, feared and renowned across the intelligence community. A hero in her own right.

In my eyes, though, she will always be Peggy. That young, kind-hearted woman who trusted in me, right from the very beginning. She saw something in me, just like my mother, just like Dr Erskine. She helped me become Captain America.

She looks enchanting, even now. Her rosy cheeks, her dark red lips, her chocolate brown hair. I inch closer, standing right in front of her, but still completely invisible. She's barely an arm’s length away from me. I could reach out and cup her cheek, right now, if I want. Just how I always dreamed of. I can only imagine what I would have done for this opportunity when I first woke up from the ice. The first time I travelled here, when I accidentally walked into her office, the shock of seeing her young, alive and well had transfixed me. Now here I am again, in the presence of Peggy Carter, the date I never made, the times I never got to live. The love of my…

My…

I struggle to put the words together, even in thought. Something deep within my heart refuses to let me do it. It feels dishonest, disrespectful even. It feels _wrong_. No matter how much I try to force the feeling to be so, it’s no longer true. The woman in front of me, the very same woman who I dreamed of spending my life with for so long, who still commanded a great deal of admiration and affection from me… she is not the love of my life. I don’t know what startles me more: the fact of the matter, or how quickly my heart had accepted it as the truth.

Perhaps, despite what everyone expected of good old-fashioned Captain America, I've moved on after all. Maybe if I were more selfish, I would be able to choose a life spent with her - as opposed a life alone, with neither her nor Natasha by my side. Perhaps if I cared for her less, desired her more, I would be content with compromising her legacy and keeping her all to myself. But I’m neither of those things. I know that, as much as I dread a long and lonely existence, I’d rather carry the burden of a solitary life than desecrate Peggy’s own. Neither of us deserves that kind of ending.

An irritable sigh sounds from the woman in question, and as she raises her hand to massage her eyes, I catch sight of a silver band around her middle finger. I smile to myself, satisfied that I made the right choice. Peggy did fine without me. She doesn’t need me. And now, for the first time, I realise that I don’t need her. She will always have an important place in my heart, but she no longer owns it. And I no longer own her’s.

It’s a feeling as liberating as it is melancholy. Peggy will have her happy ending, even if I can’t have mine. At least my feelings on Natasha are clear now.

Natasha. _The love of my life_. This time, the thought comes readily and easily.

Liberating is definitely the word.

I’m wasting time that I don’t have. The invisibility charm will disperse in less than a minute. I need to replace the Tesseract now.

I quickly pick up a piece of stationery from the desk behind Peggy and toss it towards the corner of the room. She immediately stands to attention. It takes her a moment to start moving towards the source of the sound, her hand reaching into her jacket.

I feel around for my bag, pulling out the leather-bound Tesseract. Its bindings remain invisible. I still have time. I place the cube in its correct spot, unwrapping the leather from its surface, revealing the bright blue relic underneath. Its glow encompasses my vision and I began to see stars. I look away, back to Peggy, who is still unaware of my presence. Her back is towards me. Even if I were visible, she wouldn’t be able to see me.

I gather my bags and grant her one last passing look.

‘ _Good luck, Peg._ ’

A loud, warping sound draws her back toward the centre of the room, where her attention is caught by the blue glow emanating from inside the containment module. She cautiously walks back to where she had just been leaning a moment ago.

The Tesseract has reappeared. It sits there, taunting her with its enigmatic presence. Her eyes narrow.

“What are you?” 


	6. Chapter 6

The Sanctum Sanctorum. The gateway to a whole world of magic and sorcerers, hidden right under our noses this entire time. Right in the heart of New York, out of the way, non-discreet, sits one of the weirdest buildings in the city. It's the glass window at on the third storey that does it. Everything else looks eccentric, but that window screams supernatural. Its circular patterns,its amber glow, its sheer size, they all add to making the house look painfully odd. Sorcerers do love their style, don’t they?

In any case, my mission is painfully simple: knock on the door, hope someone is in, wait until someone answers, try not to be recognised in the street. Simple. Almost too simple, compared to the heists I had to pull off for the rest of the stones. It almost feels anti-climactic in contrast. But, hey, a little anti-climax is good for the heart, now and then.

I look both ways before crossing the street, keeping the cap of my civilian wear down across my face as much as possible. I step onto the pavement, up the short flight of stone steps, leading to the double doors. I check the address. 177A, Bleecker Street. This is the place. I reach out my hand to deliver a hard knock.

The doors fly open before I even touch the frame. I guess I’m expected.

I cautiously step inside. I haven’t had much experience with sorcerers, but from what I’ve seen of Strange, they like to be dramatic, and they’re incredibly unpredictable.

The entrance hall of the Sanctum is more expansive than I anticipated from seeing the building’s exterior. I wonder if it’s an illusion of interior design or more magic. Either way, it’s throwing me off balance. Maybe that's the point, to confuse the uninitiated.

The doors slam shut behind me. I resist the instinct to turn around. I know exactly what they’re trying to do.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get one over on me,” I announce to the presence I know is observing me.

“Shame,” I hear from behind me. I turn, only to find no one. I sigh. I turn back around and see a sorcerer in yellow robes standing at the top of the stairs in front of me. Fool me twice, I guess. “I was expecting Dr Banner.”

“He sends his regards.”

“I’m sure he does. I’ve been looking forward to this meeting, Captain Rogers.”

“You knew I was coming?”

“As the keeper of the time stone, I make it make it a habit to scan the future for any time I am without it, to plan and create contingencies.”

“It pays to be prepared, I guess.”

“The power of the stone demands a little foresight.”

I smirk.

“Was that a pun?”

The corners of her lips tilt upwards slyly.

“I’ll let you decide.”

She descends the stairs.

“Is there a reason why it is you, and not Dr Banner here today?”

“I volunteered to return each of the infinity stones to places in the timeline.”

She pauses.

“ _All_ six of them?”

I nod.

“Trusted in the care of _one_ man?”

“As crazy as it sounds.”

“They must have a lot of faith in you. I would have assumed that the temptation to use them would be too great.”

“Well, it's lucky for them that I have no desire to do so.” I hold the case up for inspection. “These things have cost me far more than they've given me. I want nothing more to do with them.”

She bows her head courteously.

“That is a wise choice, Captain,” she replies. “The power of the stones is limitless - in the right hands, they could be a source of great prosperity. But prosperity always comes at a cost; too few people understand that. They are tools, not shortcuts. They require just as much from us as we may demand from them.”

Don’t I know it. The Tesseract was the reason I was frozen, and the reason I was called back into active duty 70 years later. It had torn apart my previous life, and yet it had introduced me to my new family. It took Peggy from me and yet it had brought Natasha and me together for the first time.

“Your campaign was successful, I hope?”

“Yes, it was. We got everyone back.”

“Including Strange?”

“He was the one to rally the troops. He helped us win, right when I thought we'd no chance at all.”

“He’s destined to be the best of us all.”

“Funny, I thought that was Tony.”

She scoffs.

“Stark?”

“Stark,” I reply assuredly. “He helped assemble the stones. He made the sacrifice play. He saved us all. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. None of us would."

My words give her pause.

“Tony Stark," she ponders. "The man really is full of surprises.”

A smile finds its way onto my face.

"He really was."

I pace over to a nearby table, placing the case on its surface.

“You took your time coming back here,” she noted. “It’s been a week since Bruce borrowed the time stone. I was beginning to worry.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to wait awhile, just to let New York die down. Much easier to move through the city without being recognised.”

She gives me a strange look.

“You bet the safety of the multiverse over being recognised in the street?”

Despite myself, I feel my face heating up.

“Better that than risking someone swiping the case from me. In the wrong hands, even two stones could wreak chaos. I had enough timeline errors to fix already.”

“Still, it was dangerous to delay returning the stone to my care. If I had needed it before today, and been without, the consequences could have been catastrophic.”

“I understand,” I unlock the case and open it up. Her eyes immediately find the time stone. “All your’s.”

The amulet resting on her chest spins into life, opening a hidden chamber. With a wave of her hand, the green, glowing infinity stone rises from the open case and slots itself snug into the chamber. Another wave of her hands and the amulet closes itself around the stone, hiding it away. She looks visibly relieved.

“I’m glad you managed to make good use of it,” she says. Her interest is drawn to the final stone in the case. “I have never seen the soul stone before. I was unsure that it even existed. The most I ever heard of it were whispers from far-flung edges of the universe. How did you find it?”

“We didn’t,” I explain. “It was Nebula and her sister that did. They _were_ the daughters of Thanos. He charged them in hunting down the stones, one by one. Nebula told us that it was Gamora who found the soul stone in the end, on a planet called Vormir.”

“Vormir. In the spiritual centre of the universe.” She shakes her head in amusement. “Where else would it be?”

I shrug.

“Whatever you say," I remark.

“I assume Vormir is your next location.”

“And my last.”

“Is there a reason?” she asks. “For returning the soul stone last?”

I close the case, sealing it tight.

“That’s just how it happened,” I answer tersely.

“No, it wasn’t,” she cuts right through my lie. “I sense reluctance from you. Do you… dread Vormir?”

“Not exactly,” I reply. I lift the case off the table and turn to walk away.

“Then what is it that makes you so anxious, then?” she asks, interrupting my stride. I face her again.

“It’s personal,” I say after a pause. “The soul stone took someone very important to me. Going to Vormir means I’ll have to say goodbye to them… forever. That's what I dread, more than anything.”

“Grief, then,” she surmises. “Grief is what holds you back.”

My eyes narrow at her.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing,” she replies calmly. “I understand. I am the Ancient One, after all, it’s not just a moniker. I have had many students come to me during my lifetime, many I considered family. I have had to say goodbye to all of them. Grief is a constant in my life. It has given me many sleepless nights. It has made me doubt my cause of protecting the realms several times. But I remain in the world of the living, for now, until I can find a worthy successor.”

“Strange?”

“Indeed.” She turns and begins ascending the stairs once again. “We can only move forward, Captain. We as a species have developed a fatal flaw of stubbornly looking to future for our answers. Learning to cherish the time we have, now, is a skill that takes practise, but once it is mastered, you’ll find yourself at peace. Once you have something worth living for, take it one second at a time; value each and every one. Hold onto it. It runs away from you faster than you can believe.”

Her words remind me of Frigga’s. _The time you’ve spent, the time you have left, it is so very precious._

“Good luck, Captain,” I hear her say as she returns to her previous station, at the top of the stairs. “I sense opportunity in your future. Cherish it.”

I find myself standing on the street outside before I have a chance to ask what she meant.

I slip into the nearest alleyway, divorced from prying eyes. I switch my normal street clothes for the Quantum suit, fitting the navigation device over the back of my hand. I pick up the nearly empty case from the concrete. Despite the fact that only one stone remains, the case feels heavy in my hand. I take a deep, shuddering breath as I realise have nowhere left to go. It’s time. I’m nowhere near ready. I never will be.

I input the coordinates for Vormir, 2014, and press the button.


	7. Chapter 7

My staggered landing is cushioned by sand. I look up and see the dark, turbulent sky framing an eclipsed sun. The violet colours dominating my vision, the violent red light like a halo against the nearby moon. It should look beautiful. I should be mesmerised by the alien landscape. But this was where she died, and that’s all I can think about. Right there, on top of the mountain that reaches up into heaven, in the distance. Atop the stone monolith stands two giant stone pillars. I know instinctively that they signal my destination.

It takes all the will I have to convince myself to move again. Every step I take towards the monument is a battle. Thoughts of what waits for me when I reach the top haunt my mind’s eye. It occurs that not only will I know where she died, but possibly how as well. I try to block the morbid images that sear themselves into my brain before they can overwhelm me. Watching the woman I love die, even in the most fleeting of thoughts, fills my heart with pain beyond measure, like cold knives twisting in my chest.

Questions flood my brain. Was she scared? Was it painful? What was going through her head when she decided that she was the one to die? Did she think of me at all? It sounds selfish, even to me, but I know that if I had gone with Clint instead if it had been me that had to sacrifice myself to get the stone, my final thoughts would have been her. I wonder if she knew how much I was going to miss her.

Clint told me that his family had motivated her to stop him. She said that him having people that relied on him meant she was somehow more expendable. Even if that were somehow true, the fact that thought that no one depended her stung. I depended on her. Had she ever asked, I would have been there, whoever she need me to be? Maybe she thought she didn’t have a choice. Maybe she did love me, and could never conceive of someone else loving her in the same way.

I reach the foot of the mountain. Lining the edge of the rock face were a set of stairs, leading up beyond my field of vision, presumably all the way up to the precipice. I take my tentative first steps. I walk for as long as I can, trying to stave off more memories of Natasha. All the times we shared together, all those precious moments. I realise my minutes with Natasha were always numbered. Even if we had figured it out, if we had both survived, I still would have had a limited time with her. That in no way stopped me from wanting more. I wanted more time with the woman I loved, enough to show her exactly how much I needed her in my life. Ideas trespass in my head, as the steps fall behind me. How many ways I could kiss her if she allowed me to. How many more movies we had yet to watch. All the ways I could draw her. All the evenings where instead of simply watching her tired from resting on the couch I could slip in beside her and hold her tight until the morning came.

I hate myself for indulging in my fantasy. I hate myself for wishing so deeply for something I will never have.

The top of the mountain is fast approaching. I feel sick with nerves. I have no idea what’s waiting for me. I’m not ready to see her body. That was an image I only ever thought would be reserved for my darkest nightmares. The idea of it being real, somewhere nearby, filled me with intense dread.

I reach the end of the steps, into a cave. Beyond it lies the rest of the path. It takes me a second before I realise I’m not alone. A stranger, clothed in a hooded cloak, floating like a wraith, appeared before me. I have no weapons on me, only the case holding the soul stone, and my fists. They don’t seem hostile, though.

“I’ve come to return the soul stone,” I explain.

“I know why you are here,” the stranger replies. That voice… I could swear I’ve heard that voice before. “Steven, son of Sarah. You have come a long way, as have I.”

The stranger begins to approach me.

“You know me?” I ask.

“We have met before, many times, Captain.” The stranger floats into the light, revealing a few inches of skin. Red, sunken skin. “It seems we have both gone through an intense transformation.”

My heart drops into my stomach. The face of the Red Skull reveals itself right in front of my eyes. Johann Schmidt, as deformed as the day I fought him on the Valkyrie, 70 years ago. A ghost from my past made flesh before me. My hand tightens around the handle of the case. Despite my fighting stance and furious expression, he is dispassionate.

“You here for the stone?” I growl. “Cause I’m not giving it up without a fight.”

“There will be no fight,” he says, his tone as neutral as when we started this conversation. “Even if I wanted the stone, I will never possess it.”

Confusion racks my brain.

“I don’t understand.”

“That is expected,” he replies. He turns and begins walking away, out towards the top of the mountain. “Follow me. All will be explained.”

As much as I struggle to trust the Red Skull of all people, something compels me to follow. I fall in step beside him, and he resumes speaking.

“When I first travelled here, many years ago, I had no concept of the true potential of the stone. I merely saw it for its power, like the Tesseract before it. I saw it as a tool for my dominion. I called upon it blindly, with nothing but revenge in my heart. Revenge upon you, upon America, upon Zola. The soul stone judged me and saw me unworthy. Instead of granting me the power I so desired, it made me slave to it. Now I am bound to spend the rest of my days as a voice for the stone, guiding others to it, but never allowed to wield it myself.”

“I bet that must be infuriating.”

The Red Skull does not deviate from his path, his eyes remain forward facing.

“After seeing the consequences of those foolish enough to seek the stone for their own desires, I feel grateful. I was spared from a fate worse than death. Solitude is my penance.”

As we continue down the path, towards the two stone pillars, I begin to make out the edge of what looks like a cliff… oh god. Oh god, no.

We reach the edge. I look over, spotting a rounded plateau at the bottom of the cliff, maybe a thousand metres down. I see her. Her limbs are splayed out in all directions. A stain of dried blood sits below her head. She is surrounded by similar patches of varying colours of blood, but her’s is the only body. I feel sick to my stomach.

“It was not long ago that she gave her life for the stone,” Red skulls voice does nothing to ease my nerves. I try to block him out, but his words pierce through. “She did not go easily. There was a struggle, between her and her partner. He begged her to stay.”

“Just tell me how I return the stone,” I snap. To his credit, the Skull stops speaking, reconsidering his next few sentences. Whether it was of his own will, or he was compelled to answer, I couldn’t tell.

“You must release it from the edge, so that it may land true on the altar.”

“Is that it?”

“That is all I am allowed to say.”

I look down to the plateau several hundred metres beneath me.

“Leave me.” It’s a command, not a request.

I look to my right, and the Red Skull has vanished.

I open the case one last time. The final stone, the soul stone, glowing bright amber in its casing, calls to me. I reach inside and pluck it from its place. It feels warm to touch. I kick the case aside. Holding the stone out in front of me, and take a few paces to the edge. All I have to do is let go.

But I don’t. Not yet.

“I thought I knew what I’d have to say before I got here,” I begin. “But now I'm here, and I... honestly, I hoped I’d never have to do this, Natasha. Not for you. I guess that’s why I never prepared...

“I should start by saying what I should have said years ago. I... wanted to be with you, forever. I didn’t care how it happened. Running, leading, hiding - as long as I was with you, I was happy. You made me happy, Natasha, at a time where I struggled to finds things that did. The Avengers may have brought me back into the line of duty but you… you made me feel like I had a purpose again. I didn’t feel like an old museum piece, dragged back from the brink just be thrown back into war. You helped me grow beyond all that.

“We won, Natasha. Everyone who disappeared is back, alive, healthy, safe. All thanks to you. I know why you did it, and I’m proud of you for making that decision… but damn it, Nat! I wanted you, more than as a friend, or a teammate, or a partner. I wanted to be yours. Anything you wanted me to be, I would have been there. I wanted us to grow old together. I want more time with you, Nat. I want more time...”

I wipe away some rogue tears that are falling past my cheek.

“Which is why I’m really struggling here, Nat. I know you’d want me to be brave, but I don’t know if I can do this without you. What’s the point, if it’s not with you? I fought for it all to be over, for so long, because even from the beginning a part of me was hoping that… that…”

My hand is trembling violently as a fight retain control. My breath comes in gasps. I’m blinded as tears consume my vision.

“Hoping that I could spend the time I had left with you. I don’t how I thought I could convince you to give it all up, by I’d try. I had imagined this house, in the country, just like Tony’s. I knew you’d love it… it had a garden… a pond…”

I’m sobbing now. I can barely get my words out without them sounding weak. I felt powerless, facing the prospect of leaving that dream behind.

“You're the love of my life, Natasha Romanoff. If you can hear me, please, please know that I will always remember you, everyone will. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I'm sorry. I hope you’re at peace…”

I glance at my clenched fist one more time. The amber stone in my hand is visible between my fingers. I take one last breath and gather every ounce of courage I have. This is it. This is the end.

“I love you... Goodbye...”

I loosen my fingers, and the stone falls. I watch as it hurtles towards the ground, leaving me behind. My last connection to any kind of purpose in life, falling away.

The glow of the stone keeps it visible amongst the snow caking the mountain top. Its impact is inevitable. It’s only a matter of seconds. I refuse to turn away. I remain brave. For her.

I hear the stone land. It makes a light, ethereal noise - bell-like.

I hear a rumble from above me. I look up just in time to see the sky engulfed with a bright blue light. It swallows me whole. I make no attempt to move, drained from the fight. Whatever it desires of me, I surrender to it. I see only white for a moment, then my world is plunged into darkness.

*

When I regain sensation, I notice a feeling of weightlessness, as if I’m floating. I slowly open my eyes, and I find myself lying under a violet sky. The clouds from my arrival have retreated, allowing me a first look at the night sky of an alien planet.

I feel numb, inside and out. The fight has been taken out of me. I feel tempted to remain here, floating forever, counting the stars. What would be the point in doing anything else? What awaited me?

I sit up, carefully, finding the sandy surface under the water to prop myself up. I glance quickly around. I’m back where I first arrived, just about, in a small pond of water, sitting in the valley between two dunes. Clint said that this was what happened to him too. At least it saves me a walk. My navigation device still functions, despite its submersion in the water, so at least I can get back to the present, inform everyone of my success in returning the stones. Success in a clinical sort of fashion.

I try to stand up and find my footing is less than solid. The bottom of the puddle is a slushy, sandy mixture that gives way under my weight. Too shallow to swim in, just deep enough to make walking difficult. Luckily the Quantum suit is waterproof, meaning I’ll have no sand in my boots after-

“Steve?”

My mind is suspended in time. I struggle to form a coherent thought. No, I must be delirious, still groggy from my unconsciousness, because there was no way in hell that I just heard-

“Steve?”

I turn to the source of the sound, slowly, unbelieving. My eyes process the image of a person on the bank nearest the edge of the water. Lying on the sand, propped up on her elbows, is a woman. A woman clothed in a black jumpsuit. A woman with red hair tipped with blonde. A woman with startling green eyes. A woman who is staring at me intensely.

The word falls from my lips before I register the thought.

“Nat?”

She smiles, her eyes shining.

“Steve.”

The emotion in her voice shakes my world. Her voice is faint, but it rings in my ears and fires through my brain.

“Nat!”

I’m moving my legs, my arms, my torso, everything I have control of, desperately pushing through the water. Every atom of my being has only one goal, that’s to get to her before she can disappear.

She’s clambering towards me as well. Her feet hit the water and she stumbles, but like me, she doesn’t stop moving.

We collide in an embrace that knocks the wind from us both, frantically grasping at each other, pulling the other as close as possible. My tears have returned now on their own accord as I hold her tighter than I ever have before, so tight I’m worried she might break. Her arms snake around my neck, her head falls into the empty space between my head and my chest and she stays there, burrowing as deep as she can. I lift her body towards me, her legs wrap around me as tight as her arms. She knows I can carry her weight. She knows I will carry her for the rest of my life.

I focus on the sounds of her breathing, her muffled sobs as the emotion of the moment catches up to her. I keep whispering to her, stroking her, squeezing her, cherishing every second I have.

“I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you”

“I’ve got you.”

I repeat the words, adopting them like a mantra, my new purpose.

Eventually, the two of us pull back, resting our forehead together, refusing to increase the distance between ourselves any further.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. Her whole body is shaking. “I’m sorry. I had to do it. It was me or Clint. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” I plead, “It’s okay, Nat. We did it. We saved everyone.”

Her eyes open, looking up into mine.

“We did?”

“We did,” I smile as wide as I can, my bottom lip is trembling erratically. “We won. It’s over.”

She emits something halfway between a sob, a gasp and a laugh. But then she smiles, and I’m her’s all over again.

“Nat,” I push the words out as quickly as I can, “I never got to tell you... Thinking that you were gone and that you would never know almost killed me, Nat. I—“

Before I can go on, she leans up and presses her lips to mine. The stress I had been harbouring in my body until now slowly begins melting away. The movements of her lips against my own render every muscle in my body powerless. I relax, allowing her to gently wrap her body closer to mine. I reciprocate the kiss with every ounce of love and care I have towards her, pulling her ever closer towards me until we’re barely two people anymore. We only stop because we have to breathe, and when we do break she leans back ever so slightly so that I can see her whole face.

“I know,” she whispers so softly only I could possibly hear her. “I’ve always known.”

We initiate one last kiss, less desperate than before, but more passionate in all the ways that mattered.

The stones are far away in my mind right now. All I know is Natasha. This wasn’t just a kiss, this was a promise. A promise for something more, more than intimacy, more than purpose. This was her and me, promising our time. Our time, so precious that from now, we will only ever spend it together.

The war is over. I’m home.


	8. Chapter 8

Of all the things that Steve has done in his life, time travel must be up there. Even if they had to be careful, even if they had a job to do and it was purely a ‘business trip’, it must have been _somewhat_ cool. Well, now he gets to do it again, lucky bastard. And he’s got Thor’s hammer to boot. A time-travelling, hammer-of-the-gods wielding, muscle-bound super soldier, and yet he’s still single. It goes to show, you can’t have it all. I like to I think I got the luck with the ladies in the draw. Well, that and the wings. Maybe I’ll let Steve have a go with them if he gives me a go on the time machine. I’d love a vacation in ancient Egypt or someplace, after the kind of stuff we’ve all been through. Two years on the run, only to be immediately thrown into a war for the universe? Yeah, we all deserve a vacation, Steve most of all. His serum was supposed to stop or at least slow down his ageing, but he definitely looks older. Maybe it’s the eyes. Those forlorn, baby blue eyes of his would be chick magnets if he tried. 

Maybe it was because he lost Natasha.

Yeah, that one cut us all deep. Working with Natasha Romanoff for four years was quite an experience. She was a scary woman, don't get me wrong, and could beat my ass in ways I had never even heard of. But she sneaks up on you. One day she’s Agent Romanoff, ex-KGB, the Black Widow; then before you realise it even happened, she’s Nat, your best friend, and flame to your other best friend. Sorry, Barnes, you’re going to have to work harder than that if you want third best friend status. That’s just the way it is.

I’m hoping that this mission through time will be therapeutic for him - Steve, I mean. Maybe he’d finally do a little soul searching while he’s gone, all by himself with no one else to look after. I tried to subtly hint at him that, you know, he has a freaking time-machine and all, so maybe take your time there, bud. It’s not like he can’t give himself a long trip to some alien paradise planet before coming back. But Steve isn’t the kind of person to just run off somewhere and forget about the mission at hand. Hell, it’s a battle to get his eyes off the objective long enough to notice his partner, after all. Or perhaps he did notice her, and was just too nervous to ask? It's hard to imagine that under all that muscle and patriotism is a scrawny boy from the Depression, but it's most obvious when he's around women. Around Nat, though, he was something completely new. Something better than Captain America. I don't think I've ever seen a truer version of Steve Rogers than when he was with Nat.

Either way, the moment he gets back, me and Barnes are gonna surprise him with a holiday. Somewhere nice and warm where he can lay low, sunbathe, get his mind off things. Wakanda has some beautiful lakes, and T’Challa owes us a few favours. Okay, it was Barnes that actually convinced him, but I convinced Barnes, so technically it’s a joint effort.

It’s surprisingly hard it is to watch him go. I know, I’m gonna see him again in about five seconds, but I know it's gonna be much longer for him. We might not get the same Steve back. Barnes knows this, too. That’s why he’s got his best supportive face on, bless him. I’ve pulled out the poker face for this occasion. Steve can never see past my poker face, I’m very proud of it. In any case, he needs us to be strong for him; he’s had enough pity in his life.

“Going Quantum in 3…”

Right, final goodbye nods.

“2…”

It’s not forever. We’ll see him again.

“1…”

Right?

The machine activates and he shrinks, just like how tic tac would - except now he looks like an actual tic tac cause he’s all in white. Sounds stupid, but it’s the small things that are keeping me from worrying about him. Anything to distract myself I guess.

“Returning in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

And he’s…

Still not there.

He’s still gone.

So what, do we wait a second? Is this normal? No, Bruce looks confused. Why does he look confused?

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce answers nervously. I see Barnes turn away in my peripheral vision. “He passed right by the time zone where he should be.”

“Well get him back.”

“I’m trying-“

“Get him the hell back!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!”

“Sam.”

Barnes’ voice beckons me to turn around and when I do I spot the same thing as he does. The man that’s been sitting on the bench behind us this whole time. Except now he looks sort of…

Oh.

“Go on.” I glance at Bucky, but he gives me a reassuring look. I think he was almost expecting this.

I take it one step at a time, forward towards the shore next to the bench. He looks smaller than I expected him to look. I guess that’s only natural, muscle doesn’t last forever. Is this what he like before the serum? No wonder Barnes was so protective of him. He still has the same old man fashion that I remember him for, except this time, I realise, it’s a lot more appropriate.

He looks good, for however old he is now. I didn’t think I’d be able to recognise him all too well. But it’s still Steve. I find myself smiling despite the shock of it all. I don’t know, seeing him so old and content warms my heart.

“So, did something go wrong or did something go right?” I ask. He smiles mischievously.

“Well after I put the stones back I thought maybe I’d try some of that life Tony told me to get,” he explains, gesturing his hands around nonchalantly.

“How did that work out for you?”

He takes a moment to stare out at the sun coming down over the lake. He’s taking it all in, finally. I guess he’s learnt how to slow down a little.

“It was beautiful,” He replies, his voice is full of emotion. Yeah, he did learn to slow down.

“I’m happy for you,” I say to him. “Truly.”

He smiles at me.

“Thank you.”

He reaches down for something lying by his side. I notice that it’s a canvas bag, wide and round, it’s opening unzipped. There’s something big and bright red inside.

“I have something for you,” he says, rolling it over to my side of the bench. He reaches inside and pulls its contents out. It’s his old shield, brand new and shining. “Try it.”

I hesitantly reach forward and run my hands along its surface. It’s sturdy, but not too heavy. I reach inside and wrap the straps around my arms. I feel myself standing a little straighter than before.

“How’s it feel?” I hear him ask expectantly. I give him a sceptical smirk.

“Like it’s someone else’s.”

He shrugs slightly.

“It isn’t.”

My heart skips a beat. The shield on my arm suddenly feels a whole lot heavier, but I hold it true. My smile has widened tenfold.

“Thank you,” I say with as much sincerity as I can muster up as if I’m at all confident in what the hell I’m gonna do with it. “I’ll do my best.”

He reaches for my free hand, patting it with both of his like my grandpa used to.

“That’s why it's your’s.”

I notice a small, silver ring around his middle finger, and I find myself chuckling. Of course he did.

“You want to tell me about her?” I’ve heard a lot of things about Peggy Carter already, the beautiful former flame that he never had the chance to fulfil. He stopped mentioning her too often after the whole Triskellion business, but I assumed that was because he was busy. I always suspected that he still harboured something for her. Although the more I think back on it the more I thought… well, I guess he couldn’t go down that road anymore, which is tragic in itself. He and Nat would have been great together. But at least he had someone, in the end.

He smiles to himself, readjusting his jacket. He sits up straight, pretending like he’s not madly in love.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he replies cryptically.

I want to laugh, I want to scold him, but there’s a woman walking amongst the trees nearby, and I don’t want to be seen picking on an old man. In private though, he and I are going through the _details_. Screw the no-kiss-and-tell crap, he’s my friend, and he’s gonna damn well tell us about what he’s been doing these past few decades.

He glances at me and grins.

“Not when she can tell you herself.”

My brow furrows in confusion. We're not about to meet Peggy, are we? She passed away years ago. Are we going to finally meet her?

Steve turns away from me, and I begin to ask him what he means when my eyes follow his line of sight, into the trees. Towards the woman that’s now casually walking straight towards us.

She looks shockingly similar to when I last saw her, but she’s noticeably aged. Her once red hair has turned white, her face has gained a few laughter lines, but she’s still beautiful and elegant. And she’s smiling like she’s found the meaning of life. Maybe she has. Maybe they both have.

“Hello, Sam,” the aged voice of Natasha Romanoff greets me.

“Nat?” I ask, unsure of what else to say. Even Barnes looks genuinely surprised.

“Romanoff?” I hear him gasp.

“Rogers,” she clarified, and I notice that she too is wearing a silver band on her middle finger, so similar to Steve’s. Echoes of each other.

I see Steve’s face blossom into the cheekiest, smuggest smile I’ve ever seen on an elderly man, and he suddenly looks so many years younger. That’s what she does to him. I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief.

“You still trying to one-up me, after all this time?” I accuse, but he just waves it off. His shit-eating grin refuses to disappear.

“Sorry. Force of habit. Hard to break,” he says in a non-apology.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband,” Nat says, strolling over and sitting beside him on the bench. Her arm finds him and wraps itself around his, locking them tightly together. “He can’t help but be dramatic.”

“Don’t tell me you don't enjoy this,” he exclaims in false chagrin, “It was your idea, woman.”

The thing is, I can totally believe that _either_ of them put the other up to this. She’s rubbed off on him in all the right ways.

“Husband, eh?” I repeat to them. I clap him gently on the shoulder. “I wondered when it was finally gonna happen.”

“Did you now? Sorry to keep you waiting, young man.”

“Oh, no,” I reply warningly, but my smile gives it all away. “You don’t get to pull that with me just because you finally got wrinkles.”

I hear Barnes stifle a little laugh to himself. Yeah, you find my jokes funny. Or maybe it’s the mood of the scene because every single one of us is smiling like a lunatic.

“You’ll get them one day. Just you wait.”

If I live that long enough to get them, Steve knows how this line of business works.

“I hope so,” I confide in him honestly.

He turns to me, giving me a penetrating stare.

“You will,” he tells me in such a way that I can't help but believe that he knows for sure.

“Steve found us a place in the country,” Natasha explained. “Somewhere we could disappear to. Live out our lives.”

“It was nice,” Steve nods.

“Was?” I ask. Steve sighs, but it’s not a sad one, more of a tired one.

“We’re old, Sam,” he replies. “We couldn’t keep it forever, not by ourselves. Besides, we found someone who needed it more. A young man, with a wife, a couple of kids. He needed it for the same reasons we did.”

“Is he nice?” I hope he is. This house, it sounded important to them, I hope it’s in good hands.

“You’d know," Natasha smirks at me. "You’ve worked with him plenty.”

I pause for a moment. Worked with him? A wife, kids, isolated house…

“Barton?” Barnes puts it together just before I do. Natasha looks so proud of herself.

“There it is.”

“That’s where you’ve been hiding out then?” I ask.

“Safest place we could go,” she explained. “In the past we were untouchable. It is was the perfect safe haven for us. One way in, one way out.”

The perfect hiding spot. You can’t change what's already happened. By the time any supervillains, would-be troublemakers or ill-wishers would realise where they were, it would far too late to hurt them. That only brings up one question.

“Is this the last time we see you?” He did miss the time stop, after all - he looks, what, 90? Mid 90’s? That’s a long time to spend away from your friends. I wouldn’t blame him if they left it all behind, of course. Part of me wanted him too, after all.

“No,” Steve answer resolutely. “We only retired, Sam. We won’t just up and leave, and never see you two again. We wouldn’t do that. Our home is in the past, but we live in the present, with all of you.”

Thoughts of seeing the two of them grow old, all of us spending of lives together rush into my brain in a sappy onslaught of raw emotion.

“You mean…?”

“The Rogers are a stubborn clan of folks,” Steve announces proudly. “We’ll always be around if you ever need our help, Captain.”

The last word he says pointedly, to me. I’m gonna have to get used to hearing that more often.

“So why do all this?” I ask. “If this isn’t goodbye?”

“Proof. You two worry so much about everything.” He gestured to the open lake. “This is a new era, Sam. It should be fresh and exciting. We want you to lead it, wholeheartedly, without any regrets. We did this to tell you that, no matter what happens in the future, it’s going to be alright. So stop worrying, Sam, Buck. Just enjoy it, while you can.”

“And know that we lived happily,” Natasha added, “and that in end, we found our peace.”

“Well, until _someone_ decided that we needed a couple more Rogers around the house,” Steve nudged her playfully. She laughed.

“Don’t even pretend that it wasn’t you.”

“I may have pressed the issue once or twice,” Steve replied with exaggerated innocence.

“Kids? Nat, I thought…” I trail off. Natasha sent me a calming look.

“Wakandan technology is a remarkable thing. It was T’Challa’s idea of a wedding present. That, and the right to spoil them rotten."

“Are they here? Can we meet them?” I ask, glancing around for anyone wandering strangers.

“You’ll meet them soon,” Steve clarified. “Both of you will. We want to keep that a surprise, for now.”

“Fair enough,” I concede. I hope one of them is named after me. Actually, if all that is to come, I might still have time to persuade either of them that their child would be much better off with Sam - or Samantha - in their title somewhere.

“Besides, we thought that you might need a little time to prepare before becoming uncles,” Natasha teased. I feel my heart swell at the idea. Maybe being an uncle wouldn’t be so bad. As long as I’m not on diaper duty.

They turn slightly in their seats, towards Barnes. I move to allow him a better view of the pair.

“Buck,” Steve summons him with a gentle wave, “We have a gift for you too.”

Natasha pulls something out of her pocket. Whatever it is, it’s wrapped in a bright red satin handkerchief. They hand it to him carefully, as if it were made of glass.

“Here,” Steve offers to him. Barnes takes it gladly. “It might not be a shield, but it should mean the same thing.”

“Which is?” Bucky asks.

“Something to fight for.”

He unwraps the gift, revealing a single rose flower, as scarlet as the handkerchief it came in. An aroma of rose permeates the air along with the slightest hint of… perfume? Yeah, perfume. Funny thing is though, I could swear I recognise it from somewhere. Bucky looks confused but thankful.

“It’s a nice gesture, Steve,” he says graciously, although I hear a sliver of disappointment. “Very thoughtful.”

“It’s not from us,” Steve replied mischievously. “It’s from you.”

Barnes stops. His head shoots up, and he stares at Steve with wide-eyed awe.

“Seriously?” His voice is filled with disbelief.

“Mmhm,” Steve nods.

“It also came with a message,” Natasha adds quickly. “He says: ‘предаваться’.”

It’s Russian, I know that much. Apart from that, I have no idea what it means. But Barnes apparently does. He’s smiling, his eyes are wide as saucers.

“Hold on, you're saying…?”

“Yes, Bucky.”

“I… We…?”

“Oh, you do,” Steve smirks. “You never stop.”

He’s struggling to take it all in. Is he… blushing? Oh, my god, he’s actually blushing.

“Thank you,” Barnes can only gasp. This time, he looks truly grateful. Whatever for, I have no idea. Then again, that might be the point. He’ll tell me if I need to know. Gotta learnt to trust others if I’m gonna have any chance at leading them, after all.

I catch Steve glancing down at a wristwatch. He leans over to his wife, whispering in her ear. She nods, and they both stand.

“It’s time we were off,” he says. Natasha holds herself close to him, allowing me to see that Steve is still the taller of the two, but only just. They're a perfect picture of an old married couple.

“Where are you going?” Bucky calls to them, his focus parted from the rose.

“Someplace where we won’t be seen,” Natasha explains.

“How come?” I ask. Steve gives me one last smile.

“You’ll see.”

They turn to begin walking.

“Steve. Nat,” I call after them. They turn expectantly. I raise the shield on my arm. “I’ll take care of it.”

“We know,” Steve replied warmly. “Good luck, both of you.”

“See you in a minute,” Nat give one last goodbye, before the couple resume walking by, past the shore of the lake, into the woods. I watch them leave until I can no longer see them, wishing them well every step of the way. I turn back to find Barnes once again staring at the rose.

“You gonna tell me what that all means?” I ask. His concentration remains intact. He handles the flower between his fingers, before nodding to himself and pocketing it.

“It means I gotta run,” he replies. He turns and begins jogging down the track towards the Avengers base. He makes a quick stop beside Bruce, saying something to him that I can’t quite make out. Bruce points back towards the main building, and Barnes takes off like a rabbit.

“Hey, where you going?’ I call after him.

“I have to find her!” He shouts back.

“Her?!” I exclaim, but by then he’s already gone. I march up to Bruce, who’s busy tinkering with the equipment. “Hey, what did he say? Where’s he going?”

“He, uh, just asked me where he could find Wanda,” Bruce replied shrugging.

“Wanda?”

I pause. The perfume. No wonder I recognised it. It was Wanda’s favourite. The one she wore during the funeral. We were standing right beside her.

I look back down the track where Bucky had taken off. I can’t help the grin that appears on my face as I remember what Steve had said. No wonder the bastard was running so fast.

“Go get ‘er, man,” I urge after him, knowing that he’ll probably never hear me.

Suddenly, a loud beeping starts sounding from Bruce’s equipment. “Is that bad?”

“No,” Bruce sounds shocked. “It’s re-entry.”

“Re-entry?” I ask. I realise as soon as the words leave my mouth. “Steve?”

“Looks like it,” he says, his focus entirely on the screen in front of him. “I’m picking up two people heading in from the Quantum realm. Should be arriving in about three seconds.”

I can tell Bruce is anxious, as he counts down to arrival, but I feel perfectly relaxed. I already know exactly who’s coming through, who’s gonna appear right in front us in a couple of seconds time.

It takes a moment for Bruce to realise who the other person on the platform is. I recognise them instantly - before they’ve even removed their helmets -just from how closely they’re holding each other. The two barely part as they make their way down from the platform, as they hug me and Bruce individually. They’re always right by each other’s sides, and they both wear smiles that simply won’t die down.

I’ve never seen them so happy.

“You’re late,” I tell him while Nat is giving Bruce the run-down. “Any reason you missed your stop?”

“Sorry, Sam,” he replies, patting me on the shoulder. “After Vormir, we were going to come back right away but… we had one last stop.”

*

In the living room of a cosy home in the New Jersey suburbs, early in the evening, to the tune of some slow music, my first flame and I are dancing together, just as I had promised all those years ago. Her head is resting on my chest, her eyes are closed. Mine are looking down on her as she sways to the rhythm of the radio. My hands are stroking her back, guiding her through the steps of the dance. She needs this, more than I do. She deserved at least this.

She lifts her head and I know what she’s about to do. I allow it. Our lips meet. The spark we had during our last kiss is no longer present, but it’s still warm and familiar. It’s less of a declaration of desire, more of a fond farewell. We both know as soon as it ends that we had just had our final kiss. Beside a tinge of nostalgic melancholy, I feel satisfied in knowing that it was under better circumstances. I’m happy that, after all this time, she knew I’d be alright.

Her head resumes its place on my chest.

“When did you get so good at dancing?” Peggy teases.

“Well, I might have picked up a few pointers from the future.”

“Did you now? Anything else you’ve learned?”

“Oh, plenty,” I reply. “Not much of it very useful with the fairer sex.”

She scoffs at my archaic term.

“Clearly.”

“Hey, at least I know how to keep a promise.”

“Steve, does this look like a dance hall?”

I peer around. Her living room is sparsely decorated, but it's homely, old-fashioned (by modern standards of course). I can’t help but find myself endearing to it.

“No, but as long you’re here, dancing with me, I’d say it’s good enough.”

She hums her agreement.

“Thank you for coming so far for little old me.”

“There’s nothing little about you, Agent Carter,” I reassure her. “I happen to know that you’re going to be formidable.”

“As if I’m not already.”

“Exactly.”

I hear the artificial click of a camera phone and turn to see Natasha at the doorway.

“I’m hanging this one up on the wall,” she says as she admires her photography skills. I can’t help but smile at her antics.

“I’m glad you two get along so well,” I announce. Natasha rolls her eyes and I hear Peggy tutting.

“I’m an adult, Rogers,” Nat replies. “I don’t do the whole jealous girlfriend schtick.”

“And neither do I, thank you very much,” Peggy sounds. I give a sceptical glance. I seem to remember something about a blonde, many years ago. “Okay, I might have indulged in it _once_ , but I was young and foolish. Besides, it wasn't my fault you were so clueless back then.”

“Oh, trust me, I still am,” I admit to the two of them. They laugh together, my best girl and the love of my life. I couldn't ask for anything better.

As we’re leaving, Peggy takes both of Natasha’s hands into her own.

“It’s been wonderful to meet you,” she tells her. Natasha seemed genuinely star-struck for a moment.

“Same for you,” she replies.

Peggy then turns to me and fixes me with a stern, but playful stare.

“You’d better jolly well look after her, soldier,” she tells me. I nod my head.

“Understood, ma’am.”

He reaches up and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug, which I reciprocate.

“I’ll miss you, Peg.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

She removes herself from me, fighting to retain her composure. I bring her close and plant a small kiss on her cheek.

“Don’t ever let anyone keep you down,” I say. She gives a warm smile.

“I’d like to see them try. Now go,” she beckons, nodding to the woman by my side. “Don’t you keep another woman waiting.”

My arm wraps itself around Nat’s shoulders. My heart flips when I feel her relax into my side, fitting perfectly, like was she always meant to be there.

It’s as we’re both walking back down the garden path and onto the sidewalk when I realise that I’m looking forward to the rest of my life again. As Natasha’s head finds its way onto my shoulder, her hand clutching my other side, I remember that we have just that.

I wonder if I still have my mother’s ring in storage…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing one last chapter for this story, it will be an epilogue. Anything after that will be addressed in the notes for the next chapter.


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want a good soundtrack for this chapter, look up "Ryan Taulbert - The Realisation".

The sun’s out. It’s a summer afternoon and we’re all in a good mood. That can only mean one thing in the Barton household. Hot dog picnic!

Hot dogs are great - they’re easy to make, keep the kids happy and most importantly, it means we can make use of the grounds of the estate. It’s a win, win, win in my book. This day has just been great from the start. Nathaniel's been getting better at his running, Cooper has turned off his music player for once and Lila has managed to hit three bullseyes in a row. Overall this day is turning out better than I ever thought it could. I’m glad I survived to see it.

My only wish was that Nat had gotten to see it too.

I realise after the fact that I’m actually really grateful for her sacrifice. Doesn’t mean I’m almost monumentally pissed off at her for doing it. I was supposed to save her, that was my job. I was the one who saved her for the KGB, the one who helped her get into SHIELD. I was supposed to be the one to go.

I was so angry for a long time after I got back. I was so, so angry, at myself, at her, at anyone who looked at me funny. Laura must have the patience of God. I tried to be upbeat, I tried to be the best father I could be, but it’s hard, knowing that you failed to save your best friend, that you’re the reason her body’s on some alien planet in god-knows-where, alone. It was Laura who helped me climb out of that hole, who reminded me that I was worth anything during those late night panic attacks.

I have Natasha to thank for all this. I’m gonna make it work, just for her. So, right now, I’m gonna sit down with my family, have lunch - without mayo - and just be happy I have the chance at all to do any of this.

“Clint, honey, did you remember the mayo?”

Okay, so I guess we’re having mayo.

I rush back into the house. I remember when I first moved back in after those five years on the run. It looked like a wreck. I had refused to step inside this place for so long - the reminder of what I had lost was too painful. Now, it looks like how it’s supposed to. Like a home. Our perfect home. Or at least it would be perfect if Nathaniel would pick up his lego. I scoop it back into the box and rush into the kitchen, picking up the mayo I had forgot the put on the table. I could leave it here, say we ran out. Nobody would know… but then Laura might find out. I may be a professional agent/former Avenger with perfect aim, but an angry Laura can give me the silent treatment, and that’s much worse.

I pick up the mayo and head back outside. I stop for a moment, looking over at the picnic table. The image of my wife and children tucking in on lunch, with God's green country as their backdrop... It’s picturesque, alright. It was worth fighting for, in the end.

“Room for two more?”

Now that’s a voice I hadn’t heard from in a while. Last I knew, Steve was off on a trip to return the stones. Sounds like he succeeded.

“You know,” I announce as I turn, “There is such as thing as calling ahea…”

And just like that my throat fails and my brain screams to a stop. The mayo jar falls from my hand onto the grass. At first, I think I’m hallucinating. Then I think I’m dreaming. Then I assume I’m going mad. I glance back at my family, having lunch on the lawn. They’re still here. Nothing’s been reversed. I’m not back in time or some shit. Then who am I looking at? Because there’s no way in hell that that’s Natasha Romanoff standing right there in front of me as if nothing ever happened. As if I didn’t see her fall to her death, all because of me.

“Hi, Clint,” the illusion says in her voice. It takes step towards me.

“No,” I say forcefully, pointed a finger dangerously at her, “No, no, you stay right there. You stay right there, and you don’t come any closer.”

She looks towards the face of Steve Rogers beside her and back to me. She frowns.

“Clint, I know this going to be hard to believe-“

“Oh, yeah? Will it? Will it, huh? You got that damn right.”

My voice is wobbling from the tears that are forcing their way from my eyes, but my resolve is still holding. I won’t give in to whatever the hell this is.

“Clint, this isn’t a trick, it’s her,” Steve tries to assure me.

“You sure about that?” I fire back, my hand trembling. “You sure? Cause I saw her die. I saw fall and die, and you can’t undo that.”

“I thought she was dead too, Clint.” He’s taking small steps towards, trying to get me to calm down. “When I returned the soul stone, I thought she was gone for good. I was going to let her go, but the stone gave her back.”

“No, that… that’s not how it works,” I whisper. “The guy said, the floating red guy said it was a soul for a soul—“

“It was,” Steve explains. “But it was an exchange, not a transaction. I didn’t expect to get her back, but because of that, because I was returning the stone, and only returning the stone, it gave her back. Something to do with 'pure intentions'.”

“So what are we running by Harry Potter logic now?”

“It doesn't matter, though, surely? She's here. It’s her, Clint,” he repeats to me.

“He’s not going to believe that,” the form of Natasha Romanoff interrupts him. “But he’ll believe this.”

She takes a step closer to me. I take a step back. She gives me one of her infamous glares - or at least a really good imitation of one. If they’re willing to go this far to trick, I might as well allow them to try. I stop in place, allowing her to step in front of me. She reaches one hand out, the other is placed behind her back.

She touches my abdomen.

“Right here is a bullet wound from Taxco,” she says. “I had to spend the entire night patching it up while you caught the final round of the Super Bowl cause you refused to miss it.”

Okay, so it has the memories of Natasha… or maybe it’s reading my mind.

She reaches up to my collarbone, her finger resting atop another old wound.

“This was a scar you got from falling through the skylight at the Grand Plaza in Budapest. You refused to get it checked up until after the mission was over.”

Finally, she reaches round to one on my waist, the sight of a broken hip bone. Her eyes darken as bad memories come to the forefront of her mind.

“This one you got from me. The day you came to bring me in, I hit you with my batons so hard it shattered your hip.”

I smile. Gotcha.

“Actually, that one was from when I fell on a brick in the backyard. I was so embarrassed I just made that whole story up.”

She stares at me, her brow furrowing, confusion racking her face.

“Wait, I didn’t give you that scar?” She sounds almost disappointed, just like how Natasha would be.

“No, you didn’t.” She's not an illusion; she’s not reading my mind. It’s her. It’s Nat. I draw her into a hug before she has a chance to reprimand me for lying to her. “Oh, god, Nat, don’t you ever do that to me again.”

She hugs me back just as tightly.

“I’m not planning to,” she says. “Me and Steve, we’re retiring. Just like you. We’re out.”

“We just thought we’d come round a bit of lunch,” Steve explained, patting me on the back. “And to give everyone the news.”

“What news?” I ask. I know I must be beaming right now, I must look like a real moron, but I don’t care. My best friend is alive.

“Well,” she says, drawing out the ‘l’ cheekily, “Let’s just say I won’t be ‘Natasha Romanoff’ for much longer.”

She’s fingering something on her hand. It’s glinting in the midday sun. I know exactly what is before she shows it to me.

“So what do I call you now?” I ask. “'Natasha Rogers'?”

“I was maybe thinking of changing my name to 'Natalie',” she replies. I see Steve shake his head.

“I think Natasha is a beautiful name,” he says.

“Yeah,” I scoff, “Besides, ‘Natalie Rogers’? That was my landlady’s name when I bought this place.”

I realise after a moment that I’m the only one laughing. Those two have matching smirks like they're both in on some kind of joke.

I’m about to ask what is when a thought occurs to me. Natalie Rogers, the kind old lady who practically gave this house away. The one had been living in it for years with her husband, Steven…

No way.

No freaking way.

“Okay, but that’s just a coincidence, isn’t it?”

They glance sideways at each other. Their smirks have grown into full-on evil grins.

“Cause, I mean, that would just be… ridiculous, wouldn’t it? Right?”

Steve crouches down to pick up a hamper that had been sitting by his feet. I even didn’t notice it was there.

“I’ve brought extra buns, and sauces if you want any.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a homemade cake in there too,” Nat adds nonchalantly as they both walk past him towards the rest of his family. “Made by yours truly.”

“Except actually, _I_ made that cake.”

“Excuse me, I taste tested it.”

“Indeed, after I mixed it and baked it and decorated it-”

“Taste testing is a very important part of the cake-making process.”

“Exactly, which is why I trusted it to the most reliable person I know.” 

“I-I’m just thinking way too far into this, right?” I call after them. They continue walking. “Right?”

I’m still standing by the door of the house by the time they reach the table. I watch them as Steve greets each of the kids and Nat has an emotional reunion with Laura. A piece I didn’t even realise was missing from my life just slots into place, where I know it'll stay, forever. I suddenly experience a feeling of content, deep within me. 

I forget about coincidences, I forget about time travel, I forget about magic space rocks. Right now I’m focusing on what matters. Lunch, with my family. _All_ of my family.

I pick up the mayo jar from where I dropped it, and head towards the lunch table, homebound.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The end of the path I started us on. 
> 
> But it's far from over! Yeah, Steve and nat might have settled down, but the adventures of Sam and Bucky are far from over. Besides, domestic bliss in the Rogers household demands at least a few one-shots every now and then.
> 
> So, I'm making this a series! Hurrah! I hope you all enjoyed this story and I hope to see you all next time when we take a look at the continued misadventures of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, the new Captain America and the Winter Soldier, as they deal with new supervillains, new romances, new responsibilities and -most difficult of them all - actually working together as a duo. So, who's the sidekick?


End file.
